


Still, though, his communicator buzzed.

by Anonymous



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Anger, Angst, Blamming himself, Blood, But it’s definitely not him being scared, Corpse Finding, Crying, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death, Denial, Dream needs to lock the community house door, Former self harm, George freaks out, Guilt, Hanging mention, IF THERES ANYMORE TAGS I SHOULD HAVE, IF YOU GET TRIGGERED BY THIS SORT OF STUFF, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Its Dream if you don’t guess, I’m sorry, Like an actual dead body, Mask is destroyed, Mourning, Not Corpse Husband, Other Characters Are Mentioned, Other Suicide Methods mentioned, Please Be careful, STEER CLEAR OF THIS, Sad, Sadness, Sapnap was depressed. Dream saved him. Now he was too late to save Dream., She does anyway, She doesn’t want to feel happy, Shock, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Tell Me, Telling someone about a death, but not actually in it, its not a panic attack yet, knife mentions, lock it, suicide note, vent fic, you fool
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:33:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27799285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: His mind faded away, letting his thoughts drifted into darkness.And still,His communicator buzzed.THIS IS A VENT FICIT CONTAINS SUICIDE AND SELF HARMIF THAT SORT OF STUFF TRIGGERS YOUDONT READALSOITS NOT SEXUAL AT ALLI JUST FEEL SAFE PUTTING IT ON MATURE
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Georgenotfound & Clay | Dream, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 33
Kudos: 115





	1. Last Light

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So this is another warning! This is a vent fic and it contains Self Harm and Suicide! Don’t read if this sort of stuff triggers you! Please! Also! This is mature because I don’t know if it should be teen. I feel safe placing it as mature though.
> 
> Please drop a comment and a Kudos!
> 
> \- Carmine

He had found a spot where he would be happy.

Well, not exactly happy, but he would be relieved.

It was a gorgeous place a grassy clearing with an old and forgotten pathway curling through it. There was a tree arching over head, it’s green leaves covering the stormy sky that almost always copied his mood. His friends and even his enemies hadn’t figured it out yet. If he was excited or happy or joyful, in a way that he hadn’t been in a long time, it would be sunny. If he was sad, it would rain. Right now though, he was numb. The numbness covered the sky in dark clouds of grays and silvers.

A silver lining to this event, to what he was doing.

It would have made him flinch, once.

The dark thoughts that seemed to echo like the whispers of the dead in his ears would have made his recoil and draw back from them. He would have told someone, would have gotten help.

But now, he knew that he deserved it.

He didn’t deserve to laugh, to love, to live.

The games he had once loved doing had lost their fun long ago, the manhunts that would cause him to sprint across the landscapes of other worlds with shrieking calls and wild laughter. 

The adrenaline rush he got from them was gone too.

They did nothing for him.

They didn’t make him want to stay.

He let himself drop against the tree, like a puppet with his strings sliced. The reference caused him to snort softly, a small laugh that was only a shadow of his old one ringing out around the clearing. How was it that the puppeteer, the one who controlled them all like twisted marionettes, fell like one of his broken puppet?

It was done.

There was no backing out now.

The sleeves of his once green hoodie were stained with tourmaline and carmine that seemed to seep through the layers of fabric. The pungent stench was very noticeable, although he found that he didn’t care about it anymore. It was actually really nice, how it caused him to bob in and out of consciousness, fading until something else brought him back. It wasn’t always the same thing that brought him back to consciousness, a loud noise or the cold dew on the grass or the chill of the wind- which was leaning around the corner and curling into the tiny nook in the forest. Still, he had begun to tune everything out.

He was ready to leave now.

He was ready to free them of the burden he had created.

He was ready to be free from himself.

The only thing than really made him feel a little sorry about this was his wondering who would find his body. He hoped it wasn’t one of the children, even if Tommy would protest that title. They didn’t need to see him like this, bloodied and ripped apart at seams, even if he was the cause of so much of their pain. Refusing to listen to reason had been the worst decision that he had ever made. It had torn apart his friends. George, Punz and Sapnap had sided with him. Fundy and Wilbur and Tommy and Tubbo and Eret, at first, had been against him. They had just wanted a little freedom. Why hadn’t he let them just be free?

It was one of the reasons he had to go.

He had hurt them all so much, refusing to listen to reason and refusing to let them be free, lashing out because of his own anger and letting them take the fall. 

It was also why he had chosen the location that he had, curled in a hidden hollow in the trees while he listen to the whispers of the woods.

He had been listening to them through the communicator earlier. They sounded so happy. It was soothing to know that they would be okay when he was gone. None of them needed him anymore. It felt right. They would have each other and he would be free. It was a win-win situation.

Hopefully none of them would even notice he was gone.

His mind and consciousness slipped more, fading into the darkness.

His communicator buzzed.

He was ready to let go.

But something didn’t quite feel right, yet.

He had done as much as he could, gifting Tommy with his bow, letting George raid his supplies and Sapnap steal his armor. He hadn’t done anything to take it back. Sapnap thought he was planning something to get it back. He wasn’t. He had written his will and written letters. One for everyone. Punz. Bad. Skeppy. Tommy. Tubbo. George. Sapnap. There was even one for everyone to read together. An explanation of why. They deserved that. They deserved everything he could give them.

Even if he had done as much as he could there was still one thing he needed to do.

The lucky thing was that it was a simple thing that wouldn’t require much focus.

With a trembling hand- a passing thought would be there to let himself know that it was only because of blood loss and not because he was terrified of what was happen. He was too far gone to be scared now,- the dying man reached behind his head and loosened the clasp enough to pull of the bloody, porcelain mask.

It would die with him.

He raised the mask as high as he could in his state, half slumped against a wall of oak bark and, with a cry, he dropped it.

Normally this wouldn’t have done much, but it must have finally reached its limit of breaking.

The porcelain shattered into a few pieces, some stabbing into his hands and legs, the bloody rivulets caused by them streaming down his limbs.

The pain felt good.

The action caused him to smile as his real face was revealed to the world. But the action had sapped another thing from him: his strength. He curled in on himself, limbs weak and strength gone. The smile didn’t leave his face though. 

He was done and he was happy.

His mind slipped into darkness once more.

He still didn’t hear the communicator buzzing.

This time, even as the cold dew soaked into his bloody clothes and the wind began to howl, there would be no waking up again.

He was gone.

Still, though, his communicator buzzed.


	2. Midnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote another story!
> 
> So, I’m sorry!
> 
> I should mention that the letter reading thing is based off of something that my friends and I do. If either of us get something (like a letter or a text) from someone we don’t know, the someone else will read it to make sure that it’s not hurtful. It’s a little weird, but it works for us.
> 
> Please stay safe and listen to warnings!
> 
> Also, please drop a comment if I’ve forgotten a warning or need another tag! Thank you!
> 
> WARNINGS THIS CHAPTER  
> BLOOD  
> SUICIDAL THOUGHTS MENTIONED  
> SELF HARM MENTIONED  
> CORPSE MENTIONED  
> SAD  
> SUICIDE METHODS MENTIONED (Falling, Hanging, Jumping in Front of a Car {minecart}, ETC)
> 
> Also, I feel like this one isn’t as good. Sorry about that.
> 
> -Carmine

He was already going to be too late.

There was no way of telling when Dream put the letters on his desk.

He could feel his body moving without his permission, as though he could get there in time, running frantically as he tried to get to the person who needed him most. There was still the faintest bit of hope that he would get there in time to stop him and to save him. That he would be able to help his friend from his own demons like how he had been helped with his monsters, once.

It had been Dream that had helped him then, all of those years ago. It had been Dream who had found him sobbing on the floor, arms bloody with scratches and scars and mind full of hateful thoughts and whispers that told him terrible things.

It had begun so simply too. A scratch with a butter knife on accident at dinner. Tripping over a rock and scrapping his knee. Things that were normal for a teen to do on accident, he was clumsy and made plenty of mistakes. It had felt good. A relief from the jeering remarks and the mocking laughter and false smiles and fake friends.

Then that had turned to questions and harsher wounds. He would scratch at his arms and legs and hips and shoulders with his fingernails or a butter knife that he had stolen away in the hope to draw blood. He would wonder what it was like to fall from a height that he wouldn’t be able to survive or how long it would take for him to pass out from tying a rope around his throat too tight or what it would be like to step into the path of a moving minecart.

Little things that had seemed so innocent to him.

Things that were actually a big deal.

He had thought that they would fade with time, like the physical scars.

They wouldn’t, as it would turn out.

They would get worse and worse without help.

Why hadn’t he seen the signs? He could have stopped Dream.

His footsteps- usually the light and muffled steps of a hunter,- were loud and pounding as he sprinted across the landscape, trying to get somewhere to help someone who didn’t want to be helped. Someone who meant so much to him. Someone who had promised to never leave him.

There was something cradled in his chest as he ran, something that told him everything he needed to know at that moment.

It was a piece of paper, a letter written on a piece of crisp, white notebook paper.

His letter from Dream.

Dream’s final goodbye to him.

He could remembered when he had picked it up from Dream’s desk, thinking it was something that had gotten mixed in with Dream’s mail because it had his name on it. That happened sometimes, because of all of Dream’s fans.

The masked man didn’t have a problem with George or Sapnap- or, well, any of his closer friends, really,- looking through something that he had left out. He did the same thing with them. It had been a habit he and Dream had gotten into when they were both little. It was just something that the others had fed into, especially when they had gotten more popular. They would read each other’s mail and if there was something in it that would hurt the recipient, the person who read it would tell them that it wasn’t something that they needed to read and set it aside. They could read it later, but it helped a lot when they were having a bad day and really didn’t need to read something like that.

He had opened it- that was when he realized what had happened.

_The man had called out to his friend, curious of where he was. Dream never took this long to steal back his armor, never. Not even when he was planning something._

_Something had caught his eye- a thick pile of letters. He had thought that it was fan mail. It was thick enough to be a pile of fan mail or even a pile of normal mail that Dream had forgotten to pick up._

_One of them was addressed to him._   
  


_“ ~~Dearest Sappitus Nappitus,~~_

~~_Dear Sapnap,_ ~~

_Sapnap,_

_I guess it’s over, huh? I never thought that it would be this soon. We met so many wonderful people ( ~~George, Bad, Tommy, Eret, Wilbur, Phil, Techno~~ ) and had so many epic adventures together. We fought and play, laughed and cried. It was all fun wasn’t it?_

_But I can’t hurt ~~you~~ them any longer._

_I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, but I’m going away for a long time. This time, I’m not going to come back. It just hurts too much. I’ve nearly killed you and everyone else millions of times over. You don’t deserve that. None of you deserve that. It will be better this way._

_I know that I stopped you, all of those_ _years ago, and, for the record, I don’t regret it. You have so much to offer the world, so much to do, so much to see. You could run around the world in a minute and I wouldn’t stop you. You could burn down the SMP and L’manberg and I wouldn’t be there to stop you._

~~_I won’t be there._ ~~

~~_I’m so sorry_ ~~

_You’re not just my best friend._

_You’re my brother._

_You’re an amazing person, Sapnap and I do regret forcing this death upon you so soon, but, like I said before, the world will be better without me. Please don’t let George wallow in grief too much and don’t grieve for me too long. I don’t deserve it._

_I love you so much, Sap._

_You’re my best friend and I’ll miss you._

_Even if you shouldn’t miss me._

~~_I’m sorry I lied about not leaving your side._ ~~

_Please don’t join me too soon, Sapnap._

_Lots of love,_

_Dream.”_

_It was far from perfect and it had crossed out words and phrases, slashed out names and ripped corners, but it was from Dream._

_It was a suicide note._

As he had been lost in thought for a moment, he nearly missed something. An opening in the forest with an old cobblestone path weaving through it. The path was grown over with grass and it was covered in bushes and low lying tree branches. The branches twisted and curled together to form some sort of wall.

It was very eerie.

But something drew him towards it.

Some sort of pull, like magic, tugged him toward this eerie and spooky pathway in the forest. Maybe it was some sort of internal sense that was helping him look or maybe he had caught the tang of copper blood in a gust of wind or maybe he had faintly heard the buzzing of a nearly dead communicator.

He would never know exactly what it was, but when he shoved his way through the bushes into an equally abandoned clearly, he nearly collapsed to his knees. He had stumbled his way towards a cold figure in the grass, the chest that had held a big heart still of breath and of heartbeats and the lungs that that had made him able to produce such beloved, and well recognized, laughter empty of air.

He had found him.

He was too late.


	3. Pitch Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Me again!
> 
> I don’t like this one as much either, but I hope that you like it? Please drop a comment if I’m missing a tag or a warning!
> 
> WARNINGS  
> SELF BLAMING  
> ANGER  
> DEATH TALKED ABOUT  
> MOURNING  
> SADNESS  
> CRYING  
> SUICIDE MENTIONED
> 
> -Carmine

He still couldn’t believe what had happened.

It seemed like a dream- no, a torturous nightmare that never seemed to end.

He wanted it to end.

It seemed like just yesterday that they were throwing themselves in a manhunt, Dream running and them shouting playfully at him, all of them laughing and joking as they tried to keep up with each other. It seemed like just yesterday that they were sitting around a fire that Sapnap had started, his arms slung around Bad’s shoulders as they tried to huddle for warm and Dream acting out his fanciful and mystical stories. He had alway been the storyteller of the quartet.

They had been a happy family. Brothers in everything but blood.

They wouldn’t leave anyone behind. They had sworn to each other to never leave someone behind back then. It had stated with two best friends, Dream and Sapnap, meeting. Then he had met the rambunctious pair and they had taken him to him like a duck to water. Finally they had found Bad and taking him into their little group, their little family, was so easy. If given a choice, they would have picked the other three over anything or anyone else.

Now look at them.

Their family was broken apart and shattered. Dream was dead. Sapnap seemed almost broken. Bad didn’t even know- they hadn’t seen him since he had retreated to the Badlands with his new family. They didn’t know how to contact him at the moment. It felt like the other members of the Badlands wouldn’t even let them talk to him. And what about him? He was shocked and hurt and angry.

It felt like he was furious at everything.

He was mad at Dream for leaving them and at Bad abandoning them as they had become the villains in history. He was angry at Sapnap for not contacting him when he found the notes so that they could look for Dream together and at himself for not noticing that something was dreadfully wrong.

Maybe if Bad hadn’t left them behind, Dream would still be here.

Maybe if Sapnap had contacted him, he would have found Dream soon enough to save him.

Maybe if he had noticed what was going on, he would have been able to stop Dream.

There were so many what ifs about what would have happened if something was different. He wanted to change them. But he couldn’t. He could never be able to change it. Nobody was able to turn back time, no matter how much they would want too. A clock was meant to go forwards, after all.

He could still remember when he had found out what had happened while he had been trying to contact Dream for another sort of game. How foolish had he been? Had he not felt a hint of terror and dread every time Dream had failed to pick up? It had been just moments ago. Or maybe it had been minutes or hours. He had lost track of time in his stunned shock.

_He had been trying to contact Dream, growing frequently impatient as the communicator buzzed over and over again. His friend was still not picking up and- as much as it was frustrating,- he was growing a little worried. Not that he would ever admit it, of course. He would deny it until the day that he died. He wouldn’t know how ironic that thought would be until he found out what happened._

_Finally, when he had been about to give up and try to call someone else, the communicator made the clicking noise that the device made that it made when was picked up on the other end. Someone had picked up the call. A wave of relief had washed through him, although he, once again, didn’t know how fast that would vanish._

_Exasperated, he had opened his mouth to talk, more than ready to make a comment about him not picking up the communicator, when a noise came through the device. It didn’t seem like it was Dream’s voice, so that made him very confused. Who else would have Dream’s communicator. “Hello?” He had asked it so cautiously, a hint curiousness pricking his tone on voice. “Who’s there?”_

_It was silence on the other end when a sob broke through the speaker again, followed by a voice. A familiar voice that he would even recognize when it was as rough and broken as it was. It was Sapnap’s voice. What he said was simple, but the way it was said made him worried._

_“George.”_

_His name seemed to almost have been sobbed as well, and it sounded like it had taken a lot for his younger friend to be able to say it. Sapnap’s voice was a little hoarse, like he had been talking- or crying,- for a while._

_“Sap? What’s wrong? Where’s Dream?”_

_At the mention of their third friend, Sapnap seemed to break down into more tears from the sounds that echoed t_

_“I’m sorry. I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t stop him. I’m sorry, George. I’m sorry.”_

_Sapnap repeated this, whispering ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again. He had stiffened then, almost understanding what had happened but not quite processing it. It didn’t make sense to him. It seemed like he was a visitor in his own mind. He heard his own voice speaking but didn’t really register that it was his voice._

_“What do you mean? Who couldn’t you save?”_

_“Dream.” A sharp wail had him pulling the device away from his ear for a second. “He’s dead!”_

Sapnap had explained what had happened and what he had found as best as he could, voice broken by soft sobs and whimpers. The nineteen year old didn’t wail like he had before, though. He seemed to be trying to compose himself.

After hanging up, he had nearly crushed the communicator. He didn’t believe that Dream was dead. It was another joke, right? An awful joke played by his two best- no, his two brothers. But something in both his heart and his head said that Sapnap wasn’t joking and that Dream wasn’t coming back.

Dream was gone for good.

There would be no more laughter. No more joking during a manhunt. There would be no more of Dream’s stories. No more sitting by the fire together. There would be nothing he could do with Dream anymore.

It hurt.

And finally, he broke, letting his mask of fury being washed away by tears.

As his cries echoed through the empty community house, the house that the trio had lived in for so long, he didn’t notice someone passing by. Someone who shouldn’t have been there.

He didn’t notice anything.

Dream was gone.

One of his best friends was gone and there was nothing he could do.

He couldn’t save someone who meant so much to him.

After everything they had been through, he couldn’t save him.

The one thing that made him cry even harder, the thing that made him curse the cruelty of the world was one thing.

He hadn’t gotten a chance to say goodbye.

Oh, how he wished he could turn back time.


	4. AN/Will be deleted tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN

Hey guys! Carmine here!

So, sorry I won’t have a chapter tonight, I started writing one but I didn’t like how it turned out. I’ll be rewriting and posting two tomorrow instead of one!

Also, if you can guess who the next chapter is focused on, I’ll..um..

write a one-shot for you? Maybe?

or 

I’ll just dedicate the next chapter to you.

Good luck!


	5. Lasting Echoes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This chapter is dedicated to Tixxa, who guessed who this chapter is about!
> 
> So, I don’t like this one as much, although it is a needed chapter. Sorry if this one feels rushed, I may end up rewriting it in the future, but not until it’s over.
> 
> Hopefully you guys like it?
> 
> WARNINGS  
> FREAK OUT  
> SHOCK  
> UNINTENTIONAL SELF HARM  
> CRYING  
> HAPPINESS AT THE WRONG TIME
> 
> -Carmine

She hadn’t meant to hear what she had heard.

She had been passing the familiar structure of the large Community House, as it was called still, sneaking through Dream SMP territory on her way to get more supplies for her bakery. The rarer ingredients couldn’t be found on Lmanberg’s land, after all. However, she heard someone crying from inside the building. She had almost not stopped to see what was wrong, it was Dream’s land and she wasn’t supposed to be there, even with her friendship with Eret.

Something seemed really wrong though, and her kindness had gotten the better of her.

The young woman had crept closer to the house, her blonde hair fluttering around her face like ribbons of pure gold. The crying started to die out, but she could still hear it faintly as she got closer and closer to the house. She recognized the voice vaguely, but she couldn’t tell exactly who it was. It was actually really heartbreaking. Something about the echoes of the fading sobs tugged at her heartstrings.

She wasn’t supposed to care about the Dream Team anymore. She wasn’t supposed to care about Eret or the members of the Badlands or anyone who wasn’t a part of L’manberg. They had all been friends though, once. She did still cared about all of them, no matter what had happened between all of them. Even Dream, George and Sapnap, who had been against L’manberg from the beginning.

Finally, after moments and after the crying died out, the blonde gathered her courage and raised her hand to the door, ready to knock on the door. She took another breath. This would be her last chance to turn back. Her last chance to ignore what was going on. But she knew that it wouldn’t feel right to do that. Yes, they were enemies, but they were once all close friends.

The heavy wooden door seemed like a solid wall of stone as she drummed her fingers against it.

It didn’t open.

“Hello?”

Her voice was soft as she called into the house, pushing the door open. Dream didn’t lock it for some reason. She didn’t know why, especially with all of the wars and his enemies and everything. It made her curious. 

Wandering the house, she looked around, glancing into the different rooms that were once so familiar. She had been here many times before, stopping in to drop of a loaf of bread or tp say hello. Finally, after a few moments, she wandered into the living room.

She was met with a sad sight.

George was crumpled on the ground, cheeks still damp with tears. His legs were folded underneath him and his communicator lay dropped in the floor, its screen cracked like he had dropped it from a height. He looked like he had collapsed there, like a marionette. His hands were clenched into fists, digging so tightly into his hands that it drew blood. It looked like it hurt. He didn’t seem to notice it or her, though. He was lost in his thoughts. George might not have even noticed the tears that still slid down his cheeks.

It made her heart twinge.

Yes, George had hurt her little brothers, had hurt her country, had hurt her family. But he had once been one of her best friends. She could still remember all of the times that George had slung his arm over her shoulder after a manhunt, chattering eagerly about the strategies that Dream had used that time. Seeing him cry like this, like someone had torn out his heart made her want it to be like how it was before the war. How it was before they had become enemies.

She wanted to wrap her arms around him, but restrained herself from doing it. She still didn’t know what was wrong or if he cared if she hugged him. Plus, she had tried to reason with herself, even if she pitied him, he was still the enemy. That wouldn’t change.

It wouldn’t go back to how it was before.

The blonde woman reached out with one hand, almost pulling back due to nervousness.

“George?”

His name felt bitter in her mouth as her voice curled around the familiar name, like an echo of how it used to be. She hadn’t called him George in a long time, at least not aloud. It had always been George in her head and ‘NotFound’ or something along those lines aloud.

He didn’t react yet.

Steeling her courage, because no matter how brave she was for being involved in everything- the burning of her flag, the wars, the taking over of L’manberg over and over again,- something primal in her made her want to run as far as she could from this house, she gently tapped his shoulder.

The reaction was nearly instant.

George jumped, scrambling backwards as he tried to get away from her. He didn’t seem to recognize her for a moment. His eyes seemed to be locked on him, but he wasn’t seeing him. His mouth moved wordlessly, although she couldn’t tell what he was trying to say. After a moment, he had shoved himself against the sofa, his back against the soft cushions. 

George hadn’t relaxed yet.

“George?” She asked again, voice tentative still. “What’s wrong?”

It was her voice that snapped the brunette man out of it.

“N-Niki?” George’s voice shook, his tone almost disbelieving. She watched as he blinked, as if trying to focus, before he relaxed. “I’m sorry.” His voice was small. “You scared me.”

She almost rolled her eyes at that, placing a hand on her hip as she looked down at the older man. “That wasn’t being scared, George. That was practically a freak out.” It hadn’t been a panic attack, but that wasn’t not just him being scared. Plus, usually, it took a lot more to scare him than being startled.

It took her a second before she approached him.

He looked so sad, shoulders hunched and head bowed. She knew that she would do this for him before the wars and she knew that she would do it for Eret, who had betrayed them in the first war, and the rest of L’manberg. Why would now be any different besides the fact that they were on different sides of a battle field.

Kneeling down by his side, she placed her hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong, George?”

The man dressed in blue looked over at her with red eyes, his eyelids swollen and puffy.

She wasn’t ready for what he said.

She couldn’t believe it either.

Some part of her recoiled while another felt like dancing. It made her almost feel sick at feeling happy about this. It was terrible, but it meant than L’manberg was free. She didn’t want to feel joyful but she did. She wanted to feel sad, to cry, to mourn or ask how, but she couldn’t. But something lit up in a rebellious part of her when George spoke.

“Dream’s dead.”

She didn’t want to feel happy.


End file.
